I did this, I broke you
by DreyInsanityCorner
Summary: He couldn't have seen it coming, but maybe he could've stopped it. Maybe-no, he could have prevented it, but he failed to. They're supposed to be a team, yet he failed him, failed Eijun.


**Auxrey**

**I did this, I broke you**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Daiya No Ace.**

He never would've seen it coming.

He's still reaching out for his thoughts, attempting to grasp them, to place them. One after the other.

The game.

Why did it stop?

The team.

Why are they on the mound?

There's so much noise.

Why are they yelling?

He can't move.

Why is he laying down, facing dirt?

And-

_Why can't he breathe?_

It was an important game, promising to be fierce, an arduous one to beat. Yet, against the presented odds, they were up by 5 runs.

5-0, to be exact.

You can thank Sawamura.

The southpaw was tuned in top notch. His pitches were fast, precise and deadly. There was no flaw to his form that day; Miyuki was damn pleased. Sawamura was letting no hits get past him, striking out any batter that stood home.

His eyes, those amber orbs were intimidating.

'He hasn't even broken a sweat.' The catcher muses to himself as he observes the pitcher's stance. Emanating an unending rush of energy through its calm demeaning. A sight that is odd, but pleasing, to see on the young man.

When the next batter stepped into the box, Miyuki couldn't help but smirk. This one's dangerous, he knows. Sawamura had forced a walk on him last time. They know very well he'll shoot it over the net if he gets the chance.

'But he won't,' Miyuki corrected. 'Sawamura won't let him.'

He needn't to make a call, no further had to be explained after he stretched his mitt out. 'Just wreck the guy.' And Miyuki knows, as he meets Sawamura's piercing eyes.

_That's the plan._

He observes idly the slow rise and fall of Sawamura's chest, taking a deep breath of his own; admires as the pitcher pulls his arm back, which vanishes behind that marvelous wall. Then, the ball suddenly snaps into vision, shooting forwards.

Strike.

The batter's looking at the mitt, almost bewildered, and Miyuki swells with pride at the smearing baseball inside it. 'Nice pitch.' He thinks and throws it back to Sawamura.

And it happens again; the smack of the ball against the mitt has evolved into a pleasant melody.

'_Strike two.' _The catcher chants in his head and, after sending the ball back, he shoots a glance at the batter.

A frown sets in slightly on Miyuki's face.

Because the guy looks confident, now sporting an air of certainty to him, as if he's sure he'll hit it now.

Miyuki will have none of that. He almost scoffs at the thought.

'Let's see how that goes then.'

Not. Good.

Because when the ball seemed to be steering on a clear path for the mitt, a bat broke through the currents. The catcher curses.

'It's gonna go over.'

How he wishes it had. How he begs he'd been right. A homerun meant less damage than what had actually occurred. The ball took a completely different course, it didn't head for the sky.

_Kazuya wants to yell._

Because the ball is on fire and rocketing straight back to Sawamura.

_Kazuya needs to yell._

Because there's clearly no time to dodge, no room for exit, no chance to escape.

He can almost hear it, the sickening crack, as projectile and target collide. The stadium is silent, the pitcher falls. Miyuki rips off his mask, he's running before he knows it.

_So, Kazuya yells._

"SAWAMURA!"

Because he's only halfway there but he can see red, growing on white fabric, tainting it. Contrasting violently within the uniform of the pitcher's slumped form. Miyuki notices the rest of the team scrambling out of the dugout; he knows Kataoka is in lead, but he pays no attention to that. Because he's already on the mound, the sheer pain on the southpaw's face is almost too much. Once he's close enough, he's hastily dropping to his knees.

He is right next to him, but he doesn't move, he can't. All he can see is red and now all instinct is yelling at him to step back, this is _too much._ He can't do anything. There's bits of blood sprayed onto Eijun's pained face and the kid doesn't seem to know what's happened, as he's _trying _to curl in on his wound but simply can't because it _hurts. _

And Miyuki _can't_ because _that's not how his shoulder's supposed to look._

Miyuki's panicking and he knows it. Even when the whole team is surrounding them and Kuramochi is on his knees as well and looking like he's forgotten how his hands work, the catcher only has his eyes on the fidgeting of Sawamura's figure, on his slow and vain attempts to protect himself from the agony he's clearly experiencing. The pain is too great and Eijun is _whimpering_. There are threatening tears peaking from the corner of the pitcher's eyes; Miyuki can see them, but _he doesn't know what to do._

It's because he does nothing that his heart somersaults over itself when Sawamura's eyes roll back into his skull, all movement dropping to a stop.

Kazuya barely registers being pushed away by Kataoka. Barely notices the paramedics springing out of nowhere. Refuses to acknowledge how they hauled Sawamura away on a stretcher, or how he looses sight of him once the ambulance's doors shut close. Blocks out the batter's ashen face as he bowed repeatedly in honest apology.

Doesn't care when they win 6-3.

Doesn't remember the ride back to the dorms.

Miyuki stares at the plain ceiling of his room from his spot on the mattress, he feels lost.

The team had cleaned up after the fifth time Takashima had ordered them to. They had trudged mutely to the showers, without more than a glance to the other. Soon, everyone had locked themselves in their respective 4 walls.

Not for the first time, Miyuki regrets not having roommates. Because right now, it's too quiet, empty. When it's quiet, you think; thinking right now isn't really the most favorable option because-

'_What if I had made a different call?'_

'_I noticed the batter's mood change. I knew he had gotten the change up. But I didn't do anything.'_

'_I could've called for a slider, or an outside pitch- damn it! Walking him would've been much better! I should've-… but I didn't.'_

Miyuki feels himself getting swallowed by his bed as he comes to a sinking realization.

'_It's my fault.'_

'_Because of my stupid confidence- I didn't do anything! And now Sawamura's hurt and in the hospital-_

"I sent him to the hospital." The sentence has slipped from his lips unintended, but Miyuki feels the weight behind the words.

"Miyuki-kun?"

He snaps up at the voice coming from outside, from across his door. Startled, he sits up and rubs his eyes, he can feel them wet. He tells himself he doesn't know why.

"Y-Yeah?" His voice is hoarse, he curses mentally because _why is he stuttering?_

"Coach Kataoka called." He freezes, glasses in hand. He knows where Kataoka's at the moment, and hates how uneasiness claws up his gut.

"Is Ei-… Is he okay?"

Nothing responds and Miyuki wonders if Takashima has left him to his wonderful thoughts, when she speaks again.

"Kataoka wants you to go visit, he will explain there."

His stomach churns. 'But why? Why me?'

He doesn't object verbally however. Remotely, he slips on his glasses and a pair of shoes, then he's out the door.

He notices how Takashima jumps a bit when he emerges from the room. Notices how her expression morphs from startled to soft, almost concerned. She's seen the redness and the swelling of his eyes and Miyuki still forces himself to believe he isn't aware.

"Come." She indicates him down the hall. "The others are waiting."

'Others?' So, it's not just him, he realizes with sudden relief. 'Maybe the whole team's going.'

But oh, he can only see two shadows waiting for them outside.

Miyuki, Kuramochi and Haruichi are confident that the car keeps closing in on them during the entire ride.

Coach Kataoka's frown is the first thing he sees when they trudge into the waiting room. They seat opposite to him, but also fear closeness. They know how detached they'll have to be in order to walk out of that place in one piece. The sand clock's turned over when Takashima takes a seat next to the older man.

"Coach," Kuramochi, always one to face things head on. "how is he?"

They all become rigid as Kataoka sighs in what clearly is frustration, he leans forward, to get their attention. Not like he needed to, the three of them were keeping notes on every breath he took.

He doesn't hit around the bush, just drops the bomb dead center.

"Not good."

They dared themselves not to speak, not to react, as Kataoka went on.

"The skin broke on impact, it wasn't that bad, but they had to patch it up." _'the blood'_ Miyuki mutely recalls. "His left clavicle's fractured, badly." The catcher's aware his throat went dry as sandpaper. _'Don't think, let him finish.'_ He reprimands himself.

"The Acromion is jarred, torn. The damage worsened when, according to Kuramochi-

Miyuki stares at him, Youichi refuses to meet his eyes.

-Sawamura had attempted to reset his shoulder on the mound."

'_WHAT-_

"The pain had become too much for him to handle then, so he passed out."

When Kataoka paused to take a deep breath, they knew they were done for.

"There was too much damage done to the area."

'_Don't do it.'_ Miyuki's yelling at himself over the churning sensation in his stomach. _'Not yet!'_

"It would take a great amount of therapy to even regain full motion and still-…"

He tunes everything out, only has ears for coach's following words.

'_Let him finish.'_

He dreads them. Those blunt, cursed words.

"His shoulder's useless. He won't be able to play, ever."

He shattered, stopped breathing.

**'Now.'**

He faintly recognizes the sound of something crashing down to the floor, and with dismay knows it's him. He can hear someone calling out for him but he can't yell out the answer loud enough.

'_It's my fault!'_

I did this,

I broke you.


End file.
